Failure + Mugs

All the mugs I own are failures
The gym I no longer go to
All the jobs I’ve lost
I long for a good mug for a cup of coffee that sparks at the success I feel achievable in the morning, the ambition, the motivation, matched in a mug. It need not be punny, my mornings are not in jestful quip to be laughed at and passed over. It not be place specific for I have not found the place I would forever return to. I would just as soon pour the coffee into my palms and drink from them as if dipped into a spring. The refreshing fil of cold water, the feeling of finding oasis.
Perhaps I should smash them, all these failed cups. I would want some grandiose moment but maybe they deserve even less. Just chucked into a bin and forgotten. I think I shall reject new mugs to avoid this situation in the future, or approached any new mug with the highest level of consideration. Drink with intention from vessels of intention. I do have one mug I love, from my sister in law. The mug is from “World Market”, nowhere and unnotable. A product bought and carried through a strip mall parking lot. On this mug is a little bird, an etched monogram of a jay, maybe from a pencil sketch. The simplicity of a single bird is the perfect amount of inspiration when taking a sip. The weight of the mug is correct. That little bird carries my thoughts across warm waves of coffee.